Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Day Two-Ninety-Three: The Indy Trail

We passed by a manor today, diary. Belonged to a knight and his peasants. I tried to approach the grounds so I could ask 'bout buying some supplies and maybe staying the night - had a hell of a raccoon infestation while we slept, and I wanna avoid that by sticking close to civilization - but the owner's guards would have nothing of it. Told us to get lost, pronto.

Good to see people are stickin' together out here. Sigh.

Our supplies are a bit sparse. The raccoons, DOZENS of 'em, made off with the edible contents of two whole wagons. Stole the blankets right off the backs of the nobles in the wagons, as well. We've been reduced to sharing our remaining stock, and the noble on lookout when it happened - a squirrely little bugger named Mosely - has been reprimanded. Severely.

The punishment? He can't participate in the War tournament anymore. Damn shame, that - he was in fourth place. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, falling asleep on the job. Wanker.

Oh, and did I mention that the oxen on one of the carts DIED? Of DYSENTERY? I don't know what that IS, diary! I don't even know HOW I knew it was dysentery, I just knew! Like it's some staple of travelling with an oxen! The horrors of migration, I tell you. So that's one wagon down, and a lot of supplies gone, and… we're on our fourth day.


Bright side: I think my son is on the way! Yep, it's a son. Libby told me so. She's so certain it's a son that I have no choice but to agree with her, 'cause saying otherwise yanks her out of her tranquil state and makes her very cross.

Oh, and, just in case it comes up: DON'T attempt to name the kid, diary. Don't even SUGGEST names. Libby's already got one picked out, and that name is Grayson. Don't ask me how she came to that decision, 'cause she won't tell me. Harsh woman, my wife, and super-stubborn.

Shrug. Grayson's a good enough name, I guess. Hope some thought went into it - we gave Eve her name because the birth happened during the night. Get it? Eve? The eve of the birth? Laaaaaate? Trust me, it makes sense.

I'm certain Grayson's about to enter the world because JUNE is certain he's about to enter the world. She's damn near ADAMANT he's about to enter the world, and she's predicted that it'll happen on Friday. I have no cause to argue with that - all the serious shit happens on Fridays. And when it DOESN'T happen on Friday, that just means that something EVEN WORSE is gonna happen on Friday.

Not that I'm implying that the birth of my son will be BAD.

No sir.

It's gonna be great. Just watch.

So long…

So long as…

The dysentery doesn't get to him…

Whatever the hell dysentery may be…

No sense worrying, I guess, but I can't help it. I'm gonna be a DADDY. AGAIN. I've been too busy to adequately express my enthusiasm about this, but it's FREAKING AWESOME. Can't wait to introduce little Grayson to his big sister! AND DON'T YOU SAY IT WON'T HAPPEN, 'CAUSE IT WILL! YOU WAIT AND SEE, DIARY!


Gotta go. I'm between War rounds in the tournament. Going up against Grylock and two other nobles this time. It's gonna be a tough match. Grylock knows how to move them neophytes. Last time we played he had my second tier in a headlock, and THAT, as you know, is a very bad thing indeed.


Dragomir the Mayor

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